Pascal, hoping doubtless, up to the last moment,
that he would keep her. Her own eyelids were heavy from want of sleep,
and she looked at him steadily as she entered, with her inquiring air.
But he was still so discomposed that she began to grow uneasy.

"No, indeed, I assure you, I would even have slept well but for the
mistral. I was just telling you so, Martine, was I not?"

The servant confirmed his words by an affirmative nod. And Clotilde,
too, submitted, saying nothing of the night of anguish and mental
conflict she had spent while he, on his side, had been suffering the
pangs of death. Both of the women now docilely obeyed and aided him, in
his heroic self-abnegation.

"What," he continued, opening his desk, "I have something here for you.
There! there are seven hundred francs in that envelope."

And in spite of her exclamations and protestations he persisted in
rendering her an account. Of the six thousand francs obtained by the
sale of the jewels two hundred only had been spent, and he had kept one
hundred to last till the end of the month, with the strict economy, the
penuriousness, which he now displayed. Afterward he would no doubt sell
La Souleiade, he would work, he would be able to extricate himself from
his difficulties. But he would not touch the five thousand francs which
remained, for they were her property, her own, and she would find them
again in the drawer.

"Master, master, you are giving me a great deal of pain--"

"I wish it," he interrupted, "and it is you who are trying to break my
heart. Come, it is half-past seven, I will go and cord your trunks since
they are locked."

When Martine and Clotilde were alone and face to face they looked at
each other for a moment in silence. Ever since the commencement of the
new situation, they had been fully conscious of their secret antagonism,
the open triumph of the young mistress, the half concealed jealousy of
the old servant about her adored master. Now it seemed that the victory
remained with the servant. But in this final moment their common emotion
drew them together.

"Martine, you must not let him eat like a poor man. You promise me that
he shall have wine and meat every day?"

"Have no fear, mademoiselle."

"And the five thousand francs lying there, you know belong to him. You
are not going to let yourselves starve to death, I suppose, with those
there. I want you to treat him very well."

"I tell you that I will make it my busines